I hope your days be bright and love will be near you always.
I hope your days be bright and love will be near you always.. She was the Gypsy girl, Monterey Bay dancer. She would gather her friends and they would find the sea. They… Continue reading
Tag Archive: love
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Kiss away my ghosts..
Kiss away my ghosts.. The saddest man on the block drank alone. He write sleeping man poetry and he drink the “Quiet man” whiskey. He was once insane, wild and foolish. He befriended… Continue reading
Pleasure and the pain..
Pleasure and the pain. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Life will teach us many things. Pleasure and the pain… Pleasure and pain, we shall know. A twisted dance we do. You say you love… Continue reading
I want to be the one, you need.. Some little poetry.
I want to be the one, you need… 1- We swayed with the sea, we loved the Storms of January. I swirled you into soft and easy circles on the empty Seaside beach.… Continue reading
The Texas-two-step. Some mini-poetry.
The Texas two-step.. 1- A pretty gal asked me to dance in Belton, Texas. I asked her. Are you a college gal? She smiled and she told me. I am thirteen and I… Continue reading
We stole, we borrowed and we wanted more..
We stole, we borrowed and we wanted more.. A Poem by Coyote Poetry My muse is alive today. We stole, we borrowed and we wanted more.. Beautiful poet came to me and she whispered.… Continue reading
My grandmother hope and wishes..
(My grandparent in 1979 in Detroit.) A Poem by Coyote PoetryI lost my Ojibwa Grandmother in 1981. She had a hard life. You would never know. She loved her children and wanted them to… Continue reading
Please remember who you were..
Please remember who you were… I saw a old friend sitting alone in a Austin, Texas at the coffee shop. Her eyes looking down at the table and her coffee, hiding her sorrow.… Continue reading
Dear Andrea..
Dear Andrea… I remembered dear Andrea. A lovely Michigan gal, once was kind to my young heart. I wrote into a notebook. “Time has pass us by,old wounds don’t hurt so badly.Old sorrow… Continue reading
She was a dancer…
She was a dancer… She was a dancer and I was the Monterey Irish Pub drunk. She could paint the sea, she could paint the forest and she could paint beautiful faces and… Continue reading